


Slip Down

by timehopper



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Collars, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Rimming, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-10-01 21:27:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20410093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timehopper/pseuds/timehopper
Summary: Sombra decides to surprise McCree after a long day.





	Slip Down

**Author's Note:**

> A "request" for some good subby Sombra, complete with spanking and anal. :3 
> 
> I really love sub!Sombra...

Jesse McCree has never been so glad to see the inside of this shitty apartment. The faded and scuffed-up wallpaper (who even has wallpaper anymore?), the stained carpets, the threadbare couch and chair… every one of them a welcome sight after the day he’s had.

Nothing about the place is glamorous, but it’s cheap and out of the way. It feels as much like home as any other place he’s rented out or squatted in as a safehouse, though he’s pretty sure he owes that to the other temporary occupant of the place. Sombra’s left evidence of her presence everywhere, from a coat draped over the back of the couch to bits and pieces of machinery scattered on the floor in the corner of the living room. McCree’s almost punched a hole right through the bottom of his foot stepping on an errant screw. More times than he could count, really. It’s strange, after so long on his own, but he can’t deny that he kind of likes it.  
  
Strange and unfamiliar as it is, he wouldn’t have it any other way. It’s nice to come home to a place that feels lived-in for once. And if there’s one thing he needs right now, it’s the feeling of being home. 

He doffs his chestplate and leaves it on the floor where it falls, kicks off his boots, and tugs off his pants. There’s nobody here to scold him about leaving his junk everywhere (like the hypocrite she is), so why bother when he’s this beat? Sombra isn’t due back from her mission for another few days, so he’s got plenty of time to clean up before she gets here.  
  
McCree makes his way to the fridge. He unbuttons his shirt as he walks; it falls open and exposes his chest to the cool blast of air from the fridge as he retrieves a beer. He finds himself longing for a whiskey and sighs. It’s still too early in the evening for that; besides, he and Sombra had finished off the last bottle before she left. 

“Should probably cut back anyway,” he tells himself after a quick glance down at his stomach. He’s far from having a proper gut, but age and poor eating habits are definitely starting to leave their mark.  
  
He nudges the fridge closed with his foot, takes a swig of his beer, and heads right for the living room to crash on the couch. He flops down onto it, right in the middle, and shuts his eyes, finally letting the day’s exhaustion wash over him. 

“Hey, cowboy.”

McCree nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears the voice. He turns his head around so fast he nearly gets whiplash; Sombra just barely manages to dip to the side so he doesn’t accidentally end up headbutting her. Her hands come to his shoulders and she squeezes once, twice, three times, rubbing and massaging the tension right out of them. 

McCree relaxes and sags against the back of the couch. “Evenin’, darlin’,” he greets around a groan. His chest is still heaving from the shock. “Wasn’t expectin’ to see you for another day or two, at least.”  
  
“The mission ended early. Unexpected complications,” she says, and McCree doesn’t want to think about how bloody those complications might have been. “Thought I’d surprise you.” 

And what a surprise it was! “You damn near gave me a heart attack.” McCree lets out a long breath and sinks further into the couch, boneless now that all the adrenaline has left his body. He lets his eyes slip shut again. He’s bone-tired, and the shoulder massage is just making it harder to stay awake. Bounty hunting is tough work in the best of times, but today had really taken it out of him. He’d managed to pull in two today - low-reward types, but damn if they didn’t know how to run. It’s the hardest he’s worked in ages, and he’d been looking forward to coming home, cracking open a cold one, and napping the evening away. All that seems like a far-off dream now his girlfriend’s come home. 

He smiles to himself. Tired as he is, he’s still missed her. 

“You haven’t even seen the best part yet.” Sombra’s voice is low, husky. McCree hears her move behind him, slinking around the side of the couch. She lifts her hands from his shoulders only to replace them again, and when she does, he opens his eyes to see Sombra dressed in nothing but a collar and stockings. 

His dick twitches. _Good-bye nap_. 

He reaches for her with a lopsided grin and brushes a lock of hair away from her face. “Well, would you look at that.” 

“What do you think?” Sombra asks, but she hardly has to. There’s no way she hasn’t noticed the sudden bulge in his boxers. 

“I think…” McCree’s hand moves from behind her ear to cup her face. “That if I wasn’t so damn tired after today, you’d already be bent over the couch and I’d be balls-deep inside you.”  
  
“Classy,” Sombra says. Her voice is sarcastic, but her eyes are hooded and her lips are twisted upward. “Tell me more.” 

She leans forward and first lifts one leg, then the other, until they’re on either side of McCree’s and she’s straddling him. She lowers herself to sit on his lap, and fuck, he can feel how hot and damp she already is through his boxers. His dick twitches again, and he knows Sombra can feel it from the way her fingers tense around his shoulders. She moans, exaggerating the noise by arching her neck. 

McCree smiles wryly. He knows this game.  
  
“Not much more to tell,” he says. “You’re gorgeous. Havin’ you on my lap like this is settin’ me on fire, and any other day I’d give anythin’ to have you bouncin’ on my dick like it’s all you were made for.” He strokes his hands up and down her sides. Sombra shivers. “But I just don’t have the energy for it tonight, sweetheart. I’m sorry.” 

Sombra pouts at him, lower lip jutting out as she leans back. It’s so tempting to just lean forward and nip at it, suck it between his teeth and pull her into a deep, hungry kiss, but McCree knows if he gives in now then she’ll never let it drop. 

Not that she will anyway. When Sombra gets like this, it’s never a matter of _if_ he’ll give in, but _when_. 

“You’re no fun,” Sombra whines. She shifts in McCree’s lap under the guise of trying to make herself comfortable, but they both know it’s just to rile him up. It works: McCree’s cock jumps up to meet the friction.  
  
“I know,” he says. “But I’ll make it up to you in the morning, how does that sound?”  
  
Sombra seems to consider it a moment, and she sighs. “Fiiiine,” she says, but McCree knows by her tone that she hasn’t given up the fight yet. Not by a longshot. But she relents, just the slightest bit, and snuggles up to him, burying her face in the crook of his neck. 

He brings a hand up to stroke the back of her head. “There’s my girl,” he says. “Sorry to disappoint you after you went to all this trouble.”  
  
“Oh, it was no trouble,” Sombra says. “Besides, you know how much I like getting dressed up for you. Or dressed down.” 

Her voice is lower now. McCree shudders as her breath tickles against his neck, slowly followed by her lips pressing against his suddenly too-sensitive skin. “You know how much I like the way you look at me. The way your cock jumps anytime I get close to you. Like now.” She runs her fingertips along the bulge in his shorts, and sure enough, McCree’s cock responds exactly as she predicted.

“Sombra…” 

McCree’s hands tighten in her hair just the slightest bit: a warning, a promise, or maybe a bit of both. However Sombra interprets it, she ignores McCree.

“What I wouldn’t do to get it inside me right now. To have you fill me up. I want you to bend me over, just like you want, and to hold me down and _fuck_ me.” He feels her teeth drag along his neck, and his whole body starts, back arching and neck stretching out for her. 

“Sombra--” 

She sighs, another exaggerated noise. “But you said no. So I’ll just have to make do with this, won’t I, mi amor?” McCree groans. She knows how much calling him _amor_ gets him going. If she’s calling him that, then there’s no way she’s just going to make do. “Maybe we should just go to bed now, hm? You can go to sleep, and I’ll just get myself off... But oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d like watching me fuck myself with the vibrator while you lie next to me and drift off -- Ow!”

Sombra’s deep, sultry speech is cut short with a yelp of pain as McCree yanks her hair. For a second, she’s shocked, but the uncertainty in her expression quickly turns into smug satisfaction.

She’s won the game and she knows it. 

“I told you _no_,” McCree says, slipping right into the part he knows Sombra wants him to play. “But if you want it that bad, fine, I’ll give it to you. Anythin’ to get you to shut up.” 

He lets go of her hair and puts his hands squarely on her shoulders. It only takes the slightest application of pressure to get Sombra to slide off the couch and drop to her knees. She kneels between McCree’s legs, spreading them open slowly and staring up at him like she can’t believe he’d let her touch him like this. Like she’s afraid that any second now he’s going to change his mind. 

But he doesn’t. He raises a brow at her and his eyes move from her lips to his dick and back again. “Go on, then. Make yourself useful.” 

Sombra licks her lips. “Whatever you s--mmph!” 

Once again, she’s cut off, this time by McCree reaching down, grabbing her jaw, and squeezing. He leers down at her, reflecting the very same smug grin she’d given him just moments ago. “And do me a favour? Don’t talk.” 

He lets go, pushing her away a little more roughly than she probably deserves, but he knows that’s just how she likes it. Sombra sneers at him, right back to her usual bratty self, and she makes sure to nick McCree with her nails just the slightest bit as she tugs his boxers off. She does as she’s told though, and remains quiet through the whole thing.

“There’s a good girl,” McCree croons. Cock now free, he reaches down with one hand and tugs at it, pulling the foreskin over the head slowly so Sombra can watch. Her eyes widen; her mouth practically waters. She licks her lips hungrily. 

“You like that?” McCree laughs breathily through his teeth. He’s baiting her and she knows it, but Sombra doesn’t fall for the trap. She just nods and leans forward. 

“Good. Now why don’t you be a good little kitten and give Daddy what he wants?” 

He doesn’t give her a choice. At the same time Sombra leans forward, McCree grabs her by the back of her head and pushes her down onto him. He fucks up into her mouth ruthlessly and she takes him in as far as she can, all the way to the back of her throat until she’s gagging around him. McCree slows down, not wanting to hurt her, but Sombra pushes through the pain and takes him in further.  
  
She goes down as far as she can and then comes back up, gasping for air. She only takes a few seconds, gulping down two deep breaths of air, and then she’s right back on McCree’s dick, sucking on the head and working her lips around it. 

And fuck, she feels good. Almost _too_ good. He considers just letting her get him off like this, but decides that if he’s going to go to all the trouble to give her what she wants despite how tired he is, he might as well take it all the way. 

McCree pulls Sombra off him forcefully and she gasps, eyes hazy and unfocused. It’s hard to tell if it’s from the pain of having her hair pulled or if she’d really just gotten _that_ into sucking him off, but at this point it doesn’t really matter. She’s already halfway gone. 

“Get up,” McCree says. He lets go of Sombra so she can stand up on her own. She does, legs already shaking. He can see the glimmer of slick between her thighs, small rivulets of it trickling down her legs. 

“Fuck, you want it bad,” McCree says. “Look at you, makin’ such a mess. Come here.” He pats his lap and Sombra settles over it again, straddling him like she did before. 

But that’s not what McCree wants. 

He grabs her ass with one hand, the _slap _of the impact echoing in the mostly empty room. “Not like that,” he says. It takes a second for what he means to sink in, but when it does, Sombra nods and obediently shifts so she’s bent over McCree’s lap, ass in the air and elbows resting on the couch cushions.  
  
“Like this?” she asks.

McCree spanks her. Hard. 

“What did I say about talkin’?” His voice is rough, dark. Sombra whimpers and sinks down a little bit. 

“That’s what I thought. And that’s what you get for bein’ a brat.” He rubs Sombra’s ass where his handprint still lingers. “So are you gonna be a good girl for me now?” 

Sombra nods. McCree spanks her again.

“Ah!”

“I asked you a question.” 

“B-but you said--” 

_Smack!_

“Y-yes.” 

He spanks her again, but gentler this time. “Yes what?” 

“Yes. I’ll be good.” 

“Good.” He squeezes the plump swell of her butt, pulling a groan from Sombra’s throat as he massages it. “But I’m gonna have to give you a few more for earlier. You understand?” 

“Y-yes.” 

_Spank_.

“Yes who?” 

“Yes sir.” 

McCree growls as he grabs Sombra’s ass. He gives it another good squeeze before pulling his hand back and slapping it lightly once, then twice, three times. Each spank is harder and louder than the last, and by the fourth, fifth, sixth, Sombra can’t hold herself back anymore: she futilely bites her lip to muffle the moans trying to escape her throat, but they break through anyway. McCree spanks her a seventh time, and on the eighth he leans over to press his lips to the shell of her ear. 

“There’s a good girl,” he tells her. “Tryin’ so hard to keep quiet, ain’tcha? But it’s okay, you can sing for me. Promise I won’t get mad.” 

Sombra whimpers. She looks at McCree over her shoulder as he pulls back, eyes hazy and cheeks flushed an even deeper red than the marks on her ass. Words fail her; all she can manage is a quiet, “Ah?” 

McCree chuckles. “Really.” 

“Mm…” Sombra’s head bobs, the barest approximation of a nod. She settles her head back down onto her forearms and wiggles her hips, signaling that she’s ready to take the rest of her punishment. 

McCree gives it readily. Two more smacks on each cheek: _One! Two! One! Two! _And with each one, Sombra’s mouth falls open wide. Loud, delicious moans fall from between her lips, each one melding into the next as if it’s just one long, drawn out noise. McCree feels his cock twitch, eager to finish the job.

So he does. 

He rubs Sombra’s abused behind gently, carefully, soothingly, just long enough to lull her into a state of bliss before he pulls her off him. She looks at him silently, questioningly. He just grins at her. 

“Bend over,” he says. 

Sombra does, leaning over the couch’s arm and bracing herself on her hands. McCree gently kisses a line down her back, paying special attention to the spinal implants. He kisses the seam where carbon fiber and silicon meet skin and she shudders, whimpering helplessly. She’s completely submerged in her submissive headspace right now; there’s nothing she can do to try to hold back at this point.

Which suits McCree just fine. 

“Be back in a sec,” he tells her with one last kiss. Sombra doesn’t answer him; her head falls between her shoulders, tips of her hair dangling just above the couch’s arm. McCree takes a moment to retrieve his phone and snap a picture of her like that, and he only regrets that he can’t get a better shot of the collar. The stockings will just have to be enough - and enough they _will_ be, for the next lonely mission when he’s holed up in a safehouse all by himself. 

He calmly walks to their room, opens the bedside drawer, and pulls out a tube of lubricant. 

Sombra is still in the same position when he gets back. He takes position behind her, running a finger along the same trail he’d kissed down just moments ago. Sombra shivers in its wake, and moans when his finger slips between her cheeks and starts to idly play with her rim. 

“You like that?” McCree asks. He prods her hole, threatening to enter her dry, and Sombra just whimpers. He can’t tell if it’s a whimper of protest or encouragement, but he smiles fondly at her regardless. 

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. All in good time. I’m not gonna do anythin’ ‘til you’re good and ready.” 

Sombra shudders. “Please,” she says at last, voice only a fraction louder than a whisper. 

Well that settles it, then. Who is he to keep a lady waiting? 

McCree takes Sombra by the hips and lifts her up so that he doesn’t have to bend down quite as far. He kisses her tailbone and lowers himself to rest between her cheeks, then gently flicks his tongue against her rim. 

Sombra _screams_. 

He hears her nails dig into the threadbare fabric of their shitty couch almost hard enough to tear it. He wants to laugh, but holds back, more focused on completing his task than on expressing his amusement. So he licks her again, circles his tongue around her fluttering hole, and presses it inside as far as it will go - which isn’t far, admittedly, but that hardly seems to matter with how wildly Sombra convulses and how loudly she moans for him.

She’s amazing. 

As he stretches her out, McCree reaches around Sombra’s thigh to slip a finger between her slick folds. He rubs at her clit, just barely grazing it, and Sombra seizes up, back arching and muscles spasming. She comes, her juices gushing around McCree’s finger and sliding down his wrist. He keeps tonguing at her ass, just a little bit longer, just until she rides out her orgasm and settles down again. When she does, he finally, finally pulls back. 

“Barely touched you there,” he mutters, more to himself than to her. She doesn’t respond, in any case. He supposes that must mean she’s ready. 

McCree drizzles some lube onto his hand and coats his fingers with it. Careful as he is to make sure there’s enough, he moves quickly enough that Sombra isn’t kept waiting long. He presses one finger into her first, wiggling it around to stretch her out even further, then adds another and moves them in and out until she’s once again reduced to little more than a moaning, drooling mess. 

Satisfied, he withdraws his fingers and replaces them with the head of his cock, rubbing teasingly against her slick hole. “You ready?” he whispers. Sombra whines. 

_Guess that’s a yes._

He pulls back, lubes his cock up quickly, and then slowly, carefully, pushes it inside. Sombra tenses; her breath comes in short, harsh gasps and McCree strokes her hair gently, trying to soothe her. It works, and soon she’s relaxed again. He presses himself deeper into her, as far as he can go. He doesn’t quite bottom out, but when he gets as far as he can, he pulls back slowly and checks to see if she’s still doing okay. She is, if the way her lips curve upwards is any indication. She looks at him over her shoulder and nods, still not quite all there, but cognizant enough that McCree doesn’t feel guilty when he pushes back in.

Sombra gasps and her head falls forward again. McCree draws back and pushes in, just teasing her hole with his tip now, and Sombra loves it. She rocks back against him, setting the pace for herself, and he follows it gladly, putting his hands on her hips to keep her steady as she moves. She’s tight and wet around him, even more so than when she was sucking him off, and McCree knows he isn’t going to last long. But he doesn’t want to come without her getting at least a second orgasm, so as he massages her rim with his cock, he reaches down with one hand and strokes her clit again. 

Sombra convulses, but she lasts a little longer this time. Long enough that McCree grows tired of rubbing her off and decides instead to dip his fingers into her pussy. He crooks his fingers once, twice, three times, and that’s all it takes to wrench another orgasm from Sombra’s overstimulated body. 

Once again, she gushes around his hand, but this time McCree feels her clamp down around it too. And that’s saying nothing of the way she tenses around his cock, muscles tightening around him so hard that he doesn’t even make it through the next thrust. McCree comes inside her, fingers of one hand digging into the meat of her hips so hard he’s worried he’ll leave a bruise. Oh well - he’s sure she won’t complain too much.

When he’s finished, he pulls out. Sombra’s legs give out below her and he catches her just before she hits the ground, scooping her up in his arms and pulling her over to the couch. She smiles and nuzzles into McCree, rubbing her cheek against his chest as she curls up in his lap. Her eyes close as McCree strokes her hair, and she sighs and burrows herself further into him.

“God, Sombra, you’re somethin’ else,” McCree whispers into her hair. He can feel her pout against his skin. 

“Sh… shut up, Jesse.” She can barely get the words out, her voice is so thick and slurred. McCree can’t help but laugh. 

“Whatever you say, darlin’. What say we get you into the bath then, hm? You’re a right mess, you know.” 

“Mmm…” Sombra rubs her cheek against him again. “That sounds… nice. Join me?” 

“Of course.” McCree smiles and pulls her close. 

He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this and would like to see more, have a chat, or find out how to support me, please check out my twitter [@tim3hopp3r](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r) or follow my writing blog [@intim3ate](https://intim3ate.tumblr.com), where I post progress, WIPs, and take requests.
> 
> If you would like to find out how to support me, I have a handy list of links right [here](https://twitter.com/tim3hopp3r/status/1122210346939244544). Please check it out! I wouldn't be able to do this without people like you supporting me. ♥
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


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